


Clover Junction

by Hawkflight



Series: Red Rose [3]
Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Minor Non-Consensual Touching, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2305973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkflight/pseuds/Hawkflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violet hair. It couldn't be real, it was such an unusual color. The man across from her unusual in his own right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clover Junction

Air slid over metal, whistling past the glass, the sole sound that could be heard in the near empty compartment. The terrain blurred outside the window when Ib raised her head to see the tall iron neon buildings start to thin out. She couldn't make out what the bright blue, green, and violet signs said at the speed the train was going out but she could guess well enough.

They would be ads, stores trying to catch the attention of the pedestrians that were still out at this hour.

She glanced down then, checking the time on her thin silver watch. A gift from her parents for her seventeenth birthday. It had groves along the edge, silver leaves beneath the glass with tiny rubies set into the right side of three of those leaves, painted red petals on a milky white surface beneath them, the pointers an onyx color. They were currently stating that it was a few minutes past midnight.

Which meant she was late.

Even though she was on the fastest train going out to Hinohara. The only train heading in that direction right now and it wouldn't even reach her destination. It would be stopping at a city some number of miles away and she would then be hopping onto a bus for the rest of the trip.

The whistling lowered and she could feel the train slowing to a stop. With a glance out the window she spotted a sign for the station. _Izumara._ The last station it would be stopping at.

With a sigh she looked back down to her lap, hands still folded across a black binder resting on her legs. After playing the same two app games on her phone for the first couple hours of sitting here she started looking at that binder instead. It didn't make her any less bored, in fact right now it just reminded her of how she should have gotten to her own station earlier this - no, yesterday.

That was something she would need a few more minutes to get used to.

The door to her left rolled open and Ib kept her head lowered as she heard another person enter the coach. A bag rolling over the wood with a few soft clinks before it was raised up and she heard it clang on the metal over the seat.

She was still staring down past her knees to the floor when white lace floated down to touch the wood boards. Her head raised slightly and she was leaning forward to grab the edge of the square piece of fabric, lifting it between thumb and forefinger from the ground to give back to the owner.

Her gaze landed on a small patch of the lace in the far corner that had originally been facing the ground but now faced her as she raised it up further to an outstretched hand. She stopped short from hanging it over. Instead moving it towards her to get a better look at the letters. She had to be seeing things. This... it was _hers_.

Ib

The two small letters didn't waver no matter how she squinted her eyes at the fabric. They didn't transform to two other letters when they widened, a small gasp escaping her. It felt the same even. Just like the one she had lost the day her parents took her to the Guertena Gallery. The lace was soft, the edges thinner with small designs etched onto the surface, making it the only part that was see-through.

Everything about it was the same.

She looked up quickly, gripping the fabric in her hands, unwilling to let go as she demanded an explanation from the other passenger. "Where did you get this?" His outstretched hand that had still been reaching forward for the handkerchief stopped when she looked up, eyes widening as he looked at her, mouth not moving. So she asked again, "This is mine. Where did you get it from?"

The man still didn't move, instead blinking at her. She blinked back. Now actually looking at him he seemed... familiar. With his odd colored hair that looked to be varying shades of violet and light blue eyes meeting her own. He must have dyed his hair for it to be that color, but it had to have been a few days ago as she couldn't see a more natural color near the roots. She couldn't imagine anyone had that hair color naturally. Still, she could have sworn she saw that color before, somewhere-

"Ib."

His voice broke through her questioning thoughts and she stared at him for a moment before clutching her handkerchief to her chest. "How do you know my name?"

A smile crept across his face, eyes seeming to light up. "It's on your handkerchief."

For a moment she was silent, and then she felt like whacking herself over the head for asking such a stupid question. She had just told him it was hers. How could she forget? Even more importantly, how did he have it? "I lost it the day my parents gave it to me. Where did you get it from and why did you have it?"

"I..." His smile seemed to falter for a second here before returning full force, but the light in his eyes had dimmed at her words, though she couldn't fathom why a few questions would have such an effect on him. "You dropped it at the gallery."

Oh! That's where she remembered him from. That same violet hair though he was years younger then, not that his appearance had changed much. At least he wasn't still wearing that torn blue jacket now.

He was just looking at her. His lips actually curled down now as she looked him over. He was wearing another blue jacket, clean without the tears and buttoned up as if he was going to an important business meeting. It gave him a more professional look. She still had to wonder who would have a meeting so early in the morning unless he was heading back from one last night. "I suppose I should have given it to the receptionist to try and get it back to you. I guess I got it in my mind that I would see you again a few days later with it all cleaned up." He gave a soft laugh that sounded hollow. "Ah, I'm sorry." His gaze dropped and it startled her when he was no longer looking at her. The one consistent thing he had done since entering the compartment. "It was silly of me."

Ib leaned forward slightly, trying to look at him but his head was tilted to the floor making it impossible to meet his gaze. Well, he _did_ appear to be sorry. "It's okay. I just haven't seen it since that day and gave up on ever finding it and then you appear with it." Years later, she added silently. "I didn't mean to accuse you of stealing or anything. You just startled me. So there's no reason to be sorry." She hesitantly reached out a hand to touch her fingertips to his shoulder, trying to comfort the man.

A slit of an eye appeared between the strands of violet hair, most of his face hidden behind the bright hair. It flickered, looking at her fingers on his shoulder then back at her. "You..." he began only to trail off for a second then started again, "You're a very kind young lady. Do you know that?" His hand raised, his own fingers brushing the underside of her wrist as he spoke.

Her eyes widened as his fingers continued to stroke the skin, slowly starting to crawl up the sides. Before his fingers could encircle her wrist she drew it away quickly, forcing her hand down into her lap, to keep calm. "I never got your name."

"Garry." He straightened back up in his seat, smiling at her. "Where are you heading this morning?"

She considered his question for a moment, not sure what information to divulge, especially to such a random stranger. Her mother had taught her to be careful around people she didn't know. "Hinohara, for work."

"Oh? What do you do?" His eyes were sparkling again.

"I... um..." It's not like her job was top secret or anything but she always found it embarrassing when anyone asked about it. "I'm a florist. Well, in training. That's why I'm going to Hinohara." She twined her fingers together to stop a second later. The memory of his fingers on her wrist still fresh in her mind. Why had he even done that? They didn't know each other and yet he was being so personal with her.

"Really? You enjoy working with flowers?" There he went again, asking as if they knew each other, were old friends. Not just out of curiosity of another stranger to try and fill the silence of the ride until the train stopped again. "When did you start?"

"Umm."

He had leant forward in his seat somewhat but now leaned back, looking to the window abruptly. "Sorry. I'm making you uncomfortable aren't I?"

She glanced beyond him to see a rolling sea of dark green; grass, trees, bushes, but no flowers in sight. They were finally in the countryside and she let out a small sigh of relief. She would be at her destination soon enough, with her two most treasured gifts from her parents.

"Do you..." Ib turned her head to see he was looking at her again. "Would you mind giving a order from me to your employer? I haven't had the time to stop by at a shop lately and it would be convenient if I had some flowers delivered to an event."

She blinked. "Oh. Sure." Ib flipped open the dark binder on her lap, tugging a pen from the side and tearing out a slip of paper to hand to him.

He picked then pen from her fingers, somehow not touching her skin and she felt relief pass through her that he seemed to be making some effort not to come in contact with her again. She wasn't sure how she would react if he did and his fingers lingered like before. So she was glad when he just took the pen and holding it loosely between his fingers started writing on the paper. The way his hand moved over it was... interesting.

Mesmerizing even. She found she couldn't look away as the pen seemed to float over the paper. There was no scratching sound that usually came with such an action. It was like a stream flowing seamlessly onto the paper, letters appearing in intricate loops. The words looked more like art then a quickly penned scratchy mess she was use to.

When he was done, handing the paper and pen back to her she stared at the paper for a moment. Not seeing the order, but rather the image the words created. It replicated the forest outside the train was rushing past. After a couple more seconds she made out the words, the different sets of flowers, colors... Her eyes widened. There was a lot. Her employer would be ecstatic to see this considering how slow the winter season was. "I'll make sure it gets to her." She stuck it in the binder, closing it to settle it back onto her lap.

"Thank you." Ib glanced up to see him smiling softly at her before looking back out the window.

The compartment was silent for the rest of the ride to the station.


End file.
